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I bristled. "Was anything late? Or not to your liking?"
"No, but you know, after seventeen years in the business, it's just a feeling."
"Someone at the salad station called in sick tonight," I admitted.
"As long as they're not overworking you."
"I'm honestly pretty damn happy."
"Do you want to head out, maybe grab a drink? Then we could chat more."
What would we even have to chat about? He promoted Simon, who then started to behave like an ass, to me in particular. End of story.
"Sorry, I have plans," I said.
"Tomorrow night, then."
I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn't want to be rude, but I needed to make my point clear. "Listen, I appreciate you stopping by and complimenting my skills, but I really don't think we’d have anything to talk about over drinks.”
He nodded once. "All right, I know when to give up. Then come on, let's walk out. I already paid the tab."
"Okay."
He immediately rose from his chair. I waved at the staff, who waved right back as Mark and I walked side by side.
Once we were outside the restaurant, he asked, "Are you sure about those drinks? I saw a really nice-looking bar."
"No, thanks. Really, I have plans tonight."
"All right."
“What’s going on? Is he bothering you?” Chad’s voice boomed from behind me. I startled as he stepped up next to us. He must have been tired of waiting for me in our alley.
"No," I said. "Hi, Chad."
He looked strangely tense. His shoulders seemed rigid.
"This is my previous boss from Seattle. Mark, meet Chad LeBlanc."
Mark held out his hand, and Chad shook it rather strongly.
Okay, so it wasn't my imagination. He really was tense.
"He was visiting from Seattle and decided to stop by the restaurant,” I explained.
"A LeBlanc himself, huh? You've got a great place. Ambience is perfect. Fits the city. Food is delicious, but of course it is. You've got Scarlett. You've got a good one." Mark turned to me. "I'm still in town until Sunday. If you change your mind about those drinks, just call me. I'm flexible and look forward to catching up with you."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said curtly.
I really didn't want to shut him down a third time. It felt impolite. I couldn't understand why he was insisting, though. We'd never been friends or anything more than employee and boss.
He turned around and walked away, probably toward Bourbon Street to grab that drink.
"Right," I said, turning to Chad, smiling from ear to ear. "I'm ready to go."
I was more than ready to spoil my man, who was still frowning.
"What was he doing here?" he asked me. His voice was unusually tight.
